


Ascent

by Andromeda_Cain



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda_Cain/pseuds/Andromeda_Cain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot detailing Puck and Finn's ascent to a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascent

Puck wasn't in a very good mood, that Wednesday evening. Earlier, he and Finn had gotten into one of their chronic bitch-fights, something about Finn's inability to hang out due to Quinn's need for attention. It ended, as usual, with him pushing Finn into the lockers, the abnormally tall boy's face crushing with anger and sadness, while Puck was left with an aching in his heart and a gnawing at his stomach.

He hadn't been thinking when he called Quinn right after; he ordered her over to his house in that usual brusque, demanding manner that soaked all the girls' panties, Quinn being no exception. The two lounged on his family's living room couch, sipping wine coolers and listening to some crap Quinn had slipped into the CD player without Puck's knowledge. Finn was probably still waiting at Breadsticks, wondering where Quinn was; Puck didn't know if he had called, since Quinn's phone was turned off.

He wasn't sure what made him do it, exactly. Maybe it was her body, so open and inviting in her buzzed state; maybe it was his anger toward Finn, wanting to get back at him for speaking words he wouldn't normally have said; maybe he just wanted to have something that Finn wanted, so he could feel like Finn wanted him as well. But suddenly Puck was pulling Quinn onto his lap, sucking at her neck, closing his eyes against the guilt, against the desire.

Puck knew Quinn wouldn't be so easy if she weren't so full of alcohol; he knew she'd regret losing her virginity to her boyfriend's best friend on a couch without even taking all her clothes off. He knew he should have pulled away, reminded her of Finn. Instead, as she trailed sloppy lips down his chest, he cupped her ass, commenting on how thick it was. The best way to get in bed with a girl was to make her feel like shit.

When he entered her, he found it suddenly hard to keep up his erection; his penis flagging, Puck panicked and started searching for something to turn him on, to keep him hard. He pictured a body, creamy pale and long, freckles dotting random, beautiful spaces that were sometimes easy and sometimes hard to find. He added big hands with skinny fingers, long feet, a scar on a hipbone. Narrow, light brown eyes, thin lips, dark brown hair; the image was suddenly rubbing itself in an erotic way with its hands, making its way to its groin which had unknowingly grown a penis. Puck's eyes popped open as he came in a way he had never allowed himself before, groaning out a name before he could stop himself, hoping Quinn would mistake it for her own.

Puck pulled out, landing on the couch beside Quinn, desperately trying to keep up an uncaring front. "Go on, get outta here, I want to take a nap," he ordered, turning his face into the couch cushion in an attempt to hide his reddened cheeks.

He heard Quinn get up, put on her uniform, head to the door. As she opened it, she turned back to Puck, body trembling. "I heard you say his name," she said quietly, before she was gone, leaving Puck with a paranoia of whether she really had and turning her phone back on. Fifteen unread messages, five voicemails. She turned her phone off again, swiping a hand across her eyes as she got into her car.

Puck, meanwhile, stared down at his own phone, still a little shaken up at the fact that he just banged his best friend's girlfriend, the one Finn had mooned over to Puck in the early stages of their relationship; the one who always left Finn feeling like shit, leaving Puck to pick up the pieces of Finn's shattered ego; the one Puck had secretly hated, secretly envied, ever since the day Finn worked up the nerve to ask her to their Freshman Homecoming.

Flipping his phone open, Puck typed in Finn's number, something he'd memorised long ago. "Finn. Who do you think it is…? Nah, man, uh…haven't seen her since school. So listen, anyway, without sounding gay or anything, I feel like shit about what happened between us… No, man, no. We're cool… Yeah, I'll meet you there in five." Hanging up, Puck contemplated feeling sorry for what he had just done. Instead, he couldn't keep back the excitement of what might happen; maybe Quinn would realise she wasn't good enough for Finn, dump him, and leave Puck to pick up the pieces of his heart; maybe Finn would realise there was someone better for him, someone who had been there since he was three.

Zipping up his pants, Puck allowed himself to daydream, for just a second, about what it would be like if Finn looked at him the way he looked at Quinn.

* * *

A fist slammed into Puck's face, splitting his lip open and leaving him dizzy. He caught a glimpse of Finn's crushed, agonised face before the fist hit his eye, the skin of his eyelid slowly starting to swell. Somewhere Quinn was crying, Kurt was babbling nonsense, Santana was egging them on, Rachel was yelling. But all Puck was conscious of was Finn; the way his legs curled around Puck's body, his ass resting on Puck's stomach, his chest heaving with exertion and pain. Sickeningly enough, Puck felt a quarter-stiffy start to pop up.

Suddenly Finn was lifted off of Puck, Mr. Schue having just arrived on the scene. "Finn, what's going on?" the teacher asked, used to Finn being the level-headed one of the group.

Finn, face crumpling, eyes leaking tears like they hadn't since that night when they were ten and he admitted to Puck that he didn't think his father knew him well enough to really love him before his death, pulled away from Mr. Schue's restraining grasp. Lips trembling, he pointed at Quinn, eyes set in determination. "I'm done with you," he announced, turning his gaze and forefinger to Puck. "I'm…I'm done with all of you!" he yelled, gesturing at the whole Glee club before kicking a chair out of his way and exiting the room, escaping from his misery.

Puck pulled away from the hands feeling his face for any broken bones; he stared at the door, straining to see Finn, wishing he had never even touched Quinn. What had been a shallow attempt at trying to break the two up had turned into a rift in his and Finn's relationship; it seemed a baby was enough to make Finn hate him.

Gritting his teeth, telling himself not to start punching the walls to try to move the torture from his heart to his fists, Puck turned to the door, ignoring everyone, picturing his Finn's crying face again. Nothing was worth making Finn cry.

* * *

Alone in his room, Puck lay on his bed, hand resting inside his jeans as he slowly stroked his erection, remembering Glee practice today, how awkwardly charming Finn looked as he struggled to perform dance numbers, chased Rachel around the piano in another one of those sickening love songs, snuck a quick glance at Puck before turning back to his hands. Puck's hand quickened as he imagined that instead of pretending that didn't happen, he strode down to Finn's seat, pulled him down to the floor, straddled his body and wrapped a hand around his cock. As imaginary Puck jerked Finn off, real Puck matched his tempo. In his mind, the two came at the same time, Finn's eyes shut, lips parted in ecstasy, as Puck groaned out Finn's name, riding out his orgasm before coming out of his post-orgasmic faze. He remembered that Finn still wasn't talking to him and his eyebrows lowered. He told himself he wouldn't cry.

* * *

"Listen, Finn, I'm tired of this. It's been three months. I haven't talked to you, texted you, I haven't even fucking touched you unless I had to in football. But enough's enough. You already know I'm sorry about Quinn. If I could take it back, I would." Puck watched Finn's fists ball up, his back, turned away from Puck, still betraying his anger and feelings of betrayal.

"It's not enough, Puck," Finn ground out, eyes staring fixedly at the ground, "I thought that baby was mine. I thought Quinn loved me. I thought we would be best friends until we died." Finn suddenly turned to Puck, expression a mask of determination. "But you ruined it. You and Quinn did. And I still can't get over it."

Puck walked forward, determined that he would make Finn realise this was impossibly unreasonable. "Finn. We've been best friends since before we could talk. Who came as your partner in Boy Scouts when all the other kids had dads to help them? Who taught you to skateboard without falling on your ass? Who held you and didn't mock you when you admitted you didn't think your dad loved you? Who's been there for you whenever, wherever you needed it?" Puck ended with a low, emotional voice, chest heaving.

Finn turned his eyes to the ground. "Who knocked up my girlfriend? Who lied to me and let me believe that I was the father? Who flirted with my girlfriend during the whole thing? Who betrayed my trust?" Finn looked back to Puck, pushing his chest. "You. You did all of that. Maybe you were a good friend when we were kids, but you sure as hell aren't one now. The saddest thing is, I can't even think of a reason for it. You never liked Quinn. In fact, you hated her, and told me any chance you could get. So why?" Finn's face, so close to Puck's, betrayed the pain hidden beneath his anger.

Puck's eyes softened, expression melancholy. "Because of this," he whispered, before he grabbed Finn's wrist, pulled him close, and kissed his shocked lips.

Finn, still surprised, returned the kiss for half a second before he pulled away. "Don't ever fucking touch me again," he whispered angrily, clumsily running to the classroom door, opening it, and escaping into the hallway.

* * *

A knock at Puck's door pulled him out of his comatose state. "I fucking told you Mom, I realise I haven't been to school in two weeks, and I honestly don't give a fuck if I have to repeat the eleventh gra—" he lost his train of thought as Finn pulled the door open, closing it behind him and standing awkwardly, observing Puck in his state of depression.

Puck sat up straight in his bed, confused. "F…Finn?" he asked, wanting to reach out and touch him, fingering his bed sheet instead.

Finn's eyes, face red in embarrassment, were turned pointedly away from Puck. "I…I just came to tell you that it's incredibly stupid and selfish of you to skip school just because I didn't return your stupid kiss. And yes, I realise it was just a clever ploy to manipulate me into thinking that you actually care about me, and no, we'll never be friends again." He suddenly stared at Puck, flustered. "And the kiss definitely didn't affect me in any way at all, and I most definitely did not like it in the tiniest bit, or even think about it afterward." Finn looked away again as Puck's face grew hopeful. "So, I, um, I just wanted you to know that," he ended lamely, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt.

Puck was out of bed quickly, striding over to Finn. Startled, Finn started to say something, but Puck just forced him against the wall, arms encircling around his waist, words silenced by Puck's mouth upon his. The two greedily tasted each other's lips, tongue caressing tongue in a heated, rough kiss. Puck let his hands roam all over Finn's pale body, fingers tracing the bones of his wrist, his shoulders, the scar on his hipbone. Finn found himself responding to such ministrations, gasping as Puck sucked at his bottom lip. When he felt his penis harden, Finn pulled away, breathing hard. "What…what made…you think…I was okay with that?" he asked, trying to be angry yet hopelessly turned on.

Puck grinned. "The fact that your penis is almost as hard as mine," he said in response, running a dangerous hand against the tent in Finn's pants.

Finn's mouth opened in that tell-tale O-shape. "Don't…" he gasped out, gripping Puck's shoulders and digging his face into Puck's neck.

Puck's grin became lasciviously turned on. He replaced his hand with his own groin, rutting up against Finn. Both boys groaned in need, Puck slipping his hands down the back of Finn's pants and cupping his asscheeks as he thrust his pelvis against Finn's again. Gasping, reddening, aching, Finn bit gently into Puck's neck, striving to keep back his moan of ecstasy.

Puck's grin faltered as Finn suddenly returned his thrusts, wrapping his arms around Puck's neck. Soon the two were rutting against each other in faster, shorter bursts, both gasping in pleasure at the sensation, finally reaching their orgasms in synchronization, just as Puck always imagined.

When the two finally came out of the haze of what they had just done, Puck laughed quietly. Finn, taking it the wrong way, started to pull away as his cheeks reddened. "I knew you never really liked me," he said quietly, not even trying to keep the pain out of his tone.

Puck shook his head, still smiling, and placed a reassuring kiss on Finn's lips. "No, Finn, I just remembered. Where the hell did you ever learn the word 'ploy'?"

Finn's eyes widened, unsure of whether he should believe Puck. "I, um, I guess I picked it up from Rachel or something," he muttered, the red of his cheeks running to meet his neck.

Puck pulled Finn in for a long, loving kiss. "Believe me, Finn. I wanted to do this. I have ever since I was old enough to realise that I could."

Finn's eyes widened at this information, biting his lip. "You…you really mean it?" he asked, finding it hard to let himself believe such a thing.

Jesus, Puck had to do something for Finn's ego. "Yes, Finn. Yes. Now fucking kiss me already."

* * *

Puck's a fucking lucky bastard.

He counts his luck every day, watching Finn, loving Finn, being loved by Finn. It's almost too much to stop himself from telling Finn just how much he loves him. Sometimes he does; masks it with insults and cuss words. But Finn knows him enough to see that he really means what he says.

And that terrifies Puck.

But not enough to let Finn go.


End file.
